Page 13 of Moonlight Over Mistletoe
He placed his teacup on the coffee table and stood. “Well, thanks for tea, but I must be going.”
Martin made to stand.
“Don't get up,” Christopher said. “I'll see myself out.” Several minutes later, he stood on Martin's porch, his heart pounding with both exhilaration and nervousness, steeling himself for what he was about to do.
He called to his horses, and before he could change his mind, he was winding his way through the Mistletoe streets toward Eleanor's house. Soon, he was standing on her porch, knocking on her door.
Eleanor answered immediately, her eyes widening at the sight of him. “Christopher? What on earth are you doing here?”
He felt like a nervous teenager. Clearing his throat, he spoke. “Good evening, Eleanor. I heard you were providing dance lessons. And while I already know how to dance, I thought, maybe, you could give me a refresher lesson, privately, if possible.” He cringed inwardly at his awkwardness, imagining the look Nora would give him as he stumbled through each word.
Eleanor's brow furrowed. “I'm a little busy organizing the competition,” she said matter-of-factly.
Christopher nodded. “Of course, my apologies for disturbing you.” But then he noticed a flicker of something, he wasn't sure what, pass over Eleanor's face.
“But a little practice with a suitable partner would be good for me, too.” She gave him a small smile. “Would tomorrow at noon work for you? I know it's soon, but I have so much to do and—”
“Tomorrow at noon would work fine,” he interrupted. “I know the perfect place, quiet and out of the way. I'll pick you up then.”
Christopher turned and rushed back to his sleigh, fearing an awkward silence would fall between them if he remained on her stoop. He gave her a wave and took off into the night. He knew precisely where and what he wanted to do for tomorrow. Now, he just needed to work a little magic.
***
At noon the next day, Christopher guided his horse-drawn sleigh to a stop in front of Eleanor's house.
He saw the curtains draw back and her face peer out the window. Seconds later, she emerged from her home, her eyes fixated on the carriage. “What is with you Kringles, and your love of sleighs? I would think a 4x4 or a snowmobile would be far more practical.”
Christopher chuckled as he extended his hand to assist her into the sleigh. “All I can say is that we are traditionalists.” He climbed in after her, taking his seat at the reins. They set off, and he attempted to make small talk. “Beautiful day, isn't it?”
“Hmm,” Eleanor responded. “Where exactly are we going?”
“You'll see.”
“That sounds ominous,” Eleanor said.
Again, Christopher laughed. “Not at all. It's a place my grandson Jack told me about. It's a little out of the way but quite beautiful and secluded.”
Eleanor gave him an odd look. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? The gossip works its way through Mistletoe quite quickly.”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Christopher said, finding her bluntness both surprising and refreshing. “Heck no. It's somewhere peaceful where we can dance to our heart's content without interruptions.”
“If you say so,” Eleanor said.
Finally, they pulled up to the clearing, and Christopher heard Eleanor gasp. As a Santa, he was accustomed to gift-giving and providing joy in the Christmas season, but it was, in many ways, an anonymous gift, and, more often than not, he never witnessed gratitude directly.
But here he was, bringing a small pleasure to a person he knew and who he'd like to believe was becoming a friend. Hearing that little catch in Eleanor's breath as they reached their destination was incredibly rewarding.
“I've lived in Mistletoe most of my life,” Eleanor said, her eyes taking in the clearing, the treeline, the crisp blue sky. “How have I never stumbled upon this place before?”
Christopher chuckled softly. “Sometimes the most magic is hidden in plain sight,” he said, squeezing her hand. “We just need the right moment to discover it.”
Eleanor turned to him. “Well then, we better not waste it. Let's get dancing.”
They walked down to a frozen lake. “It's not slippery?” Eleanor asked.
“I should think not. Black ice is the slipperiest and best for skating. There is too much wind at this lake to make black ice, and with the recent snow, the surface is rough.”
“You're quite the expert.”
